Close Your Eyes
by sweetmisery324
Summary: Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts, and it's not going exactly as *anyone* expected. Some sadness, some sweetness, and a story in there somewhere. Chapter 6 uploaded. SS/HG
1. Chapter 1: Of Schedules and Well Timed S...

Chapter 1: Of Schedules and Well-Timed Sweets  
  
~~~  
  
There's a saying - There Are Only Two Certain Things In The World - Death And Taxes. However, if the Muggle who'd come up with that one had been a wizard, it likely would have included a third: that the Hogwarts Express leaves Platform 9 3/4 at 11:00 sharp on September the first, come rain or snow, hail of frogs or skies of blood - any of which the witches and wizards of this particular year would have been not-quite-surprised to see. As Voldemort continued to gain power, 'strange occurrences' began to become less strange and simply more Daily Prophet front page fodder. For the three occupants of Compartment 12, however, it was easier - and more appetizing - to concentrate on the sweets procured from the snack cart that were currently piled on the vacant seat.  
  
"My parents would faint if they could see this." Hermione shook her head doubtfully, eyes narrowing as Ron snatched the last Chocolate Frog from the stash. "You've had six already!" Her consolation came as the frog hopped out of his grasp and into her own hand.  
  
"Honestly, Hermione, you act like we don't do this every year. D'you expect us to skip it on the last trip to Hogwarts we'll ever have?" Harry looked up from sorting his Every Flavor Beans into "Probably All Right", "Suspicious", and "Slip into Malfoy's Bag When He's Not Looking" categories.  
  
Hermione could not retort, as her mouth was full of rapidly melting frog.  
  
***  
  
Some minutes and many, many impending toothaches later, Ron had draped himself over one of the bench seats, long limbs stretched out and hands resting on a comfortably full stomach. Harry and Hermione sat side by side on the other; he, busily revising the new season's Quidditch plays while she examined her schedule and materials list, certainly for the umpteenth time in the last few days. More to stop her fidgeting than anything else, Ron sat up. "Give it here, then."  
  
Hermione handed it over. "Just worried I won't have gotten everything I need for university applications, that's all."  
  
Ron scanned it quickly and looked up with a rather befuddled expression. "Besides the fact that you're taking more classes than anyone in their right mind would try, Hermione, they've got you down for a double period in Charms. That can't be right." Seventh-years at Hogwarts took a double period in one subject to prepare for post-secondary education. Whichever you chose generally pointed towards your concentration in university and eventual career.  
  
Hermione drew herself up in her seat. "Yes, I know. I registered for it."  
  
Harry gaped at her, the playbook forgotten. "But you know that Armusmage prefers a double period in Defense Against The Dark Arts in your last year. Not that they wouldn't jump at the chance to accept the Head Girl even if you were taking Rudimentary Mandrake Maturation, but why risk it?"  
  
"Because, Harry, many of the best universities in the country - world even - would rather see a double period in Charms or Arithmancy or even Potions than Defense."  
  
Ron burst out, "There's no better school for Aurors than Armusmage, though. Mad Eye Moody himself went there!"  
  
"Yes. You're right," Hermione replied. She sat back in her seat and waited for the implications to sink in.  
  
"So... oh." Harry and Ron eyed each other nervously, each waiting for the other to proceed. It was Harry who spoke up finally. "But, 'Mione, we've all three of us always talked about becoming Aurors together. It was what we were meant to do..."  
  
Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. "No, Harry, you and Ron always talked about becoming aurors together. I hadn't made up my mind - I still haven't! And as for that "meant to do" fate and destiny nonsense... well, I didn't know Sybil Trelawney was offering career counseling these days." Folding her arms across her chest, she waited for the inevitable.  
  
"What?!" Harry spluttered. "You know that we're going to need everyone we can possibly get in this fight against Voldemort. I don't see how you can just ignore your obligations like that." Hermione's eyes flashed, but she stayed silent. "Even Neville is planning to go through Auror training, for God's sake. And you're going to waste your talent in some stuck-up university learning arcane magic that hasn't been used in centuries? Well done, Hermione. Very well done." He practically spat out the last words.  
  
She was silent for a long moment, eyes fixed on the horizon outside the window. When she finally spoke it was in a low, flat voice, gaze never wavering. "You're right, Harry. I've been an unforgivable prat. My most sincere apologies." Her shoulders turned away from him, looking for all the world as if she'd like to escape through the wall of the train.  
  
Harry shifted in his seat. Somehow, that conversation had gone pretty terribly wrong. "Hermione, I..." He took to studying the hem of his school robe very intently.  
  
Ron looked between the two of them for the space of several minutes, somewhat surprised frost wasn't forming on the seat between them. The tension in the air was nearly suffocating. Finally, he poked Harry in the knee with his wand and offered him a candy fished from among the empty wrappers. Harry took it gratefully, casting a bewildered look in Hermione's direction. Ron shrugged. Taking a bite out of the sweet, Harry shook his head in a gesture that clearly said "Women."  
  
A few seconds later, he squawked loudly and burst out in yellow feathers.  
  
Ron grinned broadly at Hermione as CanaryHarry chirped indignantly. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't keep the corner of her mouth from twitching into a smile.  
  
By the time the feathers had settled to the floor of the compartment, the trio was giggling over the latest inventions of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. None of them mentioned the previous discussion, and Harry and Ron thought it forgotten. Hermione, however, retained the guarded look in her eyes long after they left the train behind.  
  
--  
  
_AN: Thanks for reading the beginning of my first foray into HP fanfic. There are many more chapters to come, I hope. We're only barely getting started. Fair warning, there will be eventual SS/HG content; thanks to the lovely members of WIKTT I've absolutely fallen in love with the pairing. Anyway, read, review if you liked it, and especially if you didn't, and I'll see you again soon!_


	2. Chapter 2: Of Sorting Feasts and Mysteri...

Chapter 2: Of Sorting Feasts and Mysterious Owls  
  
Early the next morning, light streamed brightly through the gauzy curtains that covered the bay window in Hermione's room. Apparently, the previous year's Head Girl had enjoyed waking up with the sun, greeting each new day as it arrived with a smile on her face and a song in her heart.  
  
Hermione most emphatically did not.  
  
Groaning, she buried her head under her comforter, muttering about the inhumanity of early classes and really, was it necessary for the sun to even be up before 8 am? Surely there was a charm that could take care of that... The duvet rose to the occasion admirably, however, and since there apparently was to be no further sleep time this morning Hermione's mind decided to replay the events of last night till she felt awake enough to crawl out of bed and face the shower.  
  
***  
  
The Great Hall had been beautiful, she remembered - it was always nice to set eyes on it again after a summer at home, but the ceiling's charm had that night been adjusted to reflect the brilliant sunset that burned in the sky over Hogwarts, and the Hall's decor was accented in the autumnal colors of dusky orange, deep wines and forest green.  
  
The seventh-years' places at their tables were denoted by pins set at each plate; a miniature version of the Hogwarts crest with a smaller sigul of the appropriate house placed in the lower left corner. Hermione's seat had another as well- the Head Girl pin, which she self-consciously attempted to attach to her robe with a minimum of reverence. Only the memory of Percy Weasley kept her from readjusting it about once every three minutes.   
  
The Sorting Ceremony proceeded as it had each year before; the incoming students were divided fairly equally amongst the Houses. Hermione thought that the new Slytherins looked relatively less vile than they had in previous years. There were certainly none among them who even approached a Malfoy level of sleaze. In times like these, she mused, it was probably safer to be a little more selective about those you chose to educate in the ways of powerful magic.  
  
The teaching staff had remained mostly the same over the summer, she was grateful to see. Professor McGonagall sat at Dumbledore's right, surveying the new Gryffindors with a satisfied smile. Madame Hooch, Professors Flitwick, Sprout - all looked the same as they had at the Leaving Feast three months before. Professor Snape... well, he looked as dour as ever, but Hermione thought she detected a certain weariness that had not been there previously. That could, however, have been attributable to the chattering Divinations teacher seated next to him whom he was making a valiant attempt to ignore. The only new addition was not really a new addition at all. Remus Lupin had returned to teach Defense of the Dark Arts once again. His actions in last two years had left absolutely no doubt as to where his sympathies lay in the fight against Voldemort; he had put his life on the line several times for both Harry and the wizarding world as a whole. This year, there would be no complaints about a werewolf at Hogwarts.  
  
When all were finally seated at their places, Dumbledore rose to make his traditional beginning-of-term speech. A few muffled snickers rose from the students' tables; those who had been here in previous years knew the Headmaster's somewhat... eccentric sense of humor. Eccentric was a kind way to put it, really, Hermione thought.  
  
This address, however, proved to be quite different from the nonsense words of the feasts before. Dumbledore's face was grave as he began to speak.   
  
"Students, staff, faculty. Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Ordinarily, and as I can see most of you remember, I prefer to keep the Sorting Feast a time of merriment and joy for all. It deeply pains me, therefore, that I must say these words to you tonight. I would not, if I didn't feel it was my obligation.  
  
"It cannot have escaped the notice of a single one among you that Voldemort -" Gasps echoed around the Hall, from those not accustomed to hearing that name spoken aloud. Dumbledore waited for silence once again, and continued. "That Voldemort's power is now the greatest it has been since his temporary defeat seventeen years ago. Upon the advice of several of my staff" - here, he cast a glance at Professor Snape, who stayed grimly silent - "I have decided it is no longer prudent to shelter you all from the truth.  
  
"My children - and I do consider you, each of you, to be my children - these are dangerous times to be on the side of Light in the wizarding world. There may be - will almost certainly be - a point at which each of you will be called upon to fight. Fight against what you know in your hearts to be evil, against what threatens you and the lives of your families every day. It is imperative that you be ready to use your particular talents to protect not only yourselves and your classmates, but the state of the free world as we know it. Seventh-years, I speak especially to you; this will be a crucial year for you, in which your destinies are largely formed. See that you make the most of it.  
  
"I do not say all this to scare you. The truth is, however, that we all should be frightened. There is much in the world this day to be afraid of. Tonight, however, I will make this solemn vow to you all: as long as there is breath in my body - or life in my spirit -" Dumbledore smiled briefly at the ghosts hovering around the hall, each as transfixed as any student - "I will let no harm come to you in my keeping. This is my word as your headmaster, as a wizard, and as a man.  
  
"Now, please, enjoy the rest of the feast! The elves will, I fear, be heartbroken if their hard work goes to waste." Dumbledore sat, patting the hand of Professor McGonagall as she scanned the students nervously. For the most part, the upperclassmen were whispering amongst themselves, plans and theories being hatched and scratched every other minute. The poor first years were fixed in their seats, nearly shaking with fright.  
  
Hermione did not dare glance at Harry. It was bad enough that her friends were firmly against her stance on Auror training; now even Dumbledore was insinuating that it was every wizard's duty! Was she wrong? Could she, in all her hours of deliberation and discussion, have made a mistake?  
  
The arrival of the feast gave everyone a welcome distraction, and by the time plates were loaded and mouths full, Dumbledore's speech had been pushed to the back of everyone's mind. Everyone's, that is, except Hermione's. Harry and Ron involved themselves in a passionate discussion of the Cannons' newly recruited Beater while Hermione miserably fiddled with her silverware. It was a relief all around when the meal ended and students were allowed to return to their dormitories.  
  
As Head Girl, it was Hermione's responsibility to show the new students to their rooms, and make sure everyone was settled before she could finally sleep herself. Crossing the Gryffindor common room, she noticed Harry sitting rather pensively in one of the chairs before the fire. "Goodnight, Harry." she said; he was, after all, one of her closest friends, and a little disagreement was no reason to be uncivil.  
  
"Night, 'Mione." He seemed as if he was about to say something else, then thought better of it. She reached the foot of the stairs before he spoke again. "I'm sure, if you asked, Professor Lupin would let you switch into his class. Everyone would understand." He winced slightly. Some things were impossible not to say; this, however unwise, was one of them.  
  
Hermione hesitated for a few seconds, and then continued wordlessly up the stairs to what she knew would be a restless night of tossing and turning.  
  
***  
  
Hermione lifted the blankets slightly, letting in an altogether too-bright ray of sunshine, and squinted at her watch. Time to get up, then. Wiping the sleep out of her eyes, she stumbled towards the bathroom.  
  
~~~  
  
Half an hour later, the Great Hall was filling up with students for the first breakfast of term. The Patented Weasley Bedhead had attacked Ron with a vengeance this morning - his red locks were sticking up and out, sideways, backwards, and forwards. He, Hermione, and Harry all had the bleary-eyed look of the first day back at school.  
  
"Coffee." Hermione said decisively, and the boys silently held out their mugs.  
  
The rest of the meal continued in relative silence, but not uncomfortably - it was simply too early in the morning for real conversation. Many breakfasts had passed in this familiar way over the last six years.  
  
Ron was just clearing Hermione's plate of the last of her eggs as a solitary owl swooped into the dining hall. "A bit early for mail, isn't it?" Harry asked with mild curiosity.  
  
All three of them, however, became very curious indeed as the owl settled on the Slytherin table, just in front of none other than Draco Malfoy. He read the note while the owl reduced a crust of toast to crumbs, and nodded curtly at it. The owl departed as quickly as it had come.  
  
"Odd," Hermione remarked thoughtfully. Harry's eyes narrowed.  
  
"Yes. Very odd."  
  
--  
  
_A/N: Thanks to those who have reviewed, and are continuing to read! It means a lot to me. I've spent the last several months immersed in some wonderful, wonderful HP fanfic, mainly of the SS/HG persuasion (and yes, that's what this story will eventually be. I know I've barely mentioned Severus, but believe me, we're getting there!). It's hard to say what I've been influenced by - the list of fics would probably reach into the double digits. A few of the ones that come immediately to mind are "The Other Side of Darkness", "The Fire and the Rose", "Roman Holiday", and "Soul Searching". Those are all wonderfully written, literally amazing fics that no SS/HG reader should overlook. I'm neither pretending nor aspiring to their levels of skill; I just have my own little story to tell alongside. I hope that if you're enjoying this fic, you'll check the others out as well. They can all be found at DarkSarcasm (http://www.darksarcasm.co.uk). Again, please review if you liked it and especially if you didn't - I can always improve. Thanks everyone, and see you again soon!_


	3. Chapter 3: Of Illadvised Schemes and Pre...

Chapter 3: Of Illadvised Schemes and Precarious Situations  
  
Morning after morning passed; around four weeks' worth in all. About every third or fourth day, an oddly non-descript owl would swoop noiselessly in among the others and, under the watchful gaze of three suspicious Gryffindors, drop another envelope at the plate of Malfoy Jr.  
  
"It's a month now." Harry spoke under his breath. "I think it's time to find out what's going on."  
  
Doubtfully, Hermione shot a glance over to the Slytherin table. Draco was finishing his breakfast, occasionally gracing Pansy Parkinson, simpering next to him, with a twitch of his lips that might have been a smile. Seemed like business as usual. "It's not illegal to receive letters, Harry, no matter who you are."  
  
Ron swallowed. "Hermione, you remember what Dumbledore said at the beginning of term. What if Malfoy's already taken the Mark? He could be plotting against Hogwarts right now. We can't just do nothing."  
  
Personally, Hermione believed that not to be the case. Yes, Draco was quite often an utter bastard, and his family history would certainly not win him the benefit of the doubt in any court of social opinion. But the younger man's eyes held none of the cold cruelty plainly evident in those of his father, and, other than mudblood slurs and vague threats against non-Slytherins, he'd never done anything to deserve the magnitude of suspicion that Harry and Ron were now placing him under. Two years ago, she might have tried to protest more vigorously. Clearly, however, in this case she was fighting a losing battle. Ron and Harry had a look about them that she must've seen a hundred times over the course of their Hogwarts career: steadfast determination to do something Noble and Stupid. Something truly Gryffindor, in other words. Whatever one might say about her, Hermione was not stupid; she knew, especially after such extensive experience as she'd had the dubious honor of attaining, when to cut her losses.  
  
With a sigh, she acquiesced.  
  
***  
  
This, it was decided, was an occasion best suited by a return to the classics: invisibility cloak and Marauder's Map. To be fair, however, some concessions to the fact that this was, after all, Seventh Year, not Third, would have to be made. For example, the cloak that had hidden three twelve year olds comfortably would now have to be treated with a expertly-cast_ Engorgio_ in order to accommodate two boys fully grown in body (if not in mind), and the girl who had, at some point, unmistakenly become a woman. Additionally, in recent escapades, they'd taken to having some sort of backup prepared; usually an obscure charm or enchantment that Hermione would dig up in the Restricted Section to cover their tracks. Apparently, however, for this particular excursion a more reliable method would be required.  
  
Harry shook his head. "It's no good, Hermione. We're going to need something better than that, if Malfoy catches us. Charms are too easily broken."  
  
She bit her lip. "You're thinking about a potion, then. That's harder."  
  
He shrugged. "Yeah, but you've always had top marks. You **can** do it, can't you?"  
  
"I _can_, but whether or not I _should_ is a different story. It's difficult to negate the effects of a potion if it's misused. We could get in serious trouble for this."  
  
"We could also get in serious trouble if Lucius Malfoy finds out we've been sniffing around the boy who's not only his newest recruit, but his own **son**. I think, in this case, the benefits outweigh the risk. Besides, if everything goes to plan we won't need to use it. This is just a backup." Hermione had the distinct impression that Harry had been rehearsing his justifications beforehand. Regardless, they made some amount of sense. Nothing that Dumbledore or the Ministry could do to them would be worse than what the Death Eaters might if their suspicions were confirmed.  
  
"Worth a try, I suppose. Memory potions... hm. I'm going to need jobberknoll feathers."  
  
"Oh, brilliant - Snape said yesterday that we're just about to start working with them in class. So you'll start work on that while Ron and I figure out our strategy, then?" Harry waited expectantly.  
  
"Suppose so. When do you need everything to be ready?" She was already trying to mentally determine whether it would be easier to 'borrow' the feathers earlier or later in the time they'd be working with them in Potions.  
  
"A week or so? There was an owl this morning, so he'll be getting one about that time."  
  
"A week. It's a good thing I'm stupidly fond of you, Harry Potter." Hermione tossed her hair in not-quite-mock exasperation. He grinned.   
  
***  
  
And that's why, three days later, she was pondering the logistics of sweeping three of the flame-tipped, rather unwieldy feathers into the sleeve of her robe. Somewhat annoyed at the fact that she had to contemplate this at all, she was careful to keep an eye on Snape as he patrolled the classroom, watching for any minor flaw in procedure or technique. Fortunately, this particular period she'd managed to position herself entirely across the classroom from her former Potions partner. At some point, Snape would have to turn his back to her if only to inform poor hapless Neville that his potion was more likely to cleanse stains from laundry than unwanted memories from the mind.  
  
Sure enough, about forty five minutes into the exercise Snape bent low over the boy's cauldron and enlightened Mr. Longbottom to the fact that the slivered shrivelfigs were to be added just before the potion came to a boil, not afterwards, and that clearly a concoction meant to clear one's mind would be entirely superfluous in his case. Five points from Gryffindor. While the Slytherins snickered and the Gryffindors tried to hide their disappointment, patting their housemate on the back and telling him " 'S all right, Neville, anyone could've made that mistake.", Hermione secreted the feathers away with one fluid motion. There. Now she could only hope for the best; that the actual brewing would go as planned and that the house elves, while tidying her room, wouldn't find anything suspicious about a little extracurricular potions research.  
  
The rest of the period passed rather uneventfully. Slytherin won five points when Draco's potion successfully obliterated Goyle's memory of what he'd had for breakfast (assuming, of course, he wasn't faking, which Hermione frankly was not apt to assume at all). It was only when the cauldrons had been scoured, supplies replaced in the cupboards and students started to gather up their things that Snape spoke.   
  
"Miss Granger, you will remain after class." She froze, back to the professor's desk, looking helplessly at Harry and Ron. They returned her panicked look, desperate to help but fully aware there was no way they could without digging all three of them in deeper. Hermione swallowed and nodded at them to leave. "I'll see you at lunch." _I hope_. The last sentiment went unspoken, but was understood by all. The boys dragged their feet all the way out the door, and Hermione, forcing the sodden lump of dread that had formed in the pit of her stomach to subside, sat before Professor Snape's desk to await the punishment that was sure to come.  
  
--  
  
_A/N: Sorry guys, short chapter this time. It's finals week at my school, and I have things that are a little more important to my grades, if less interesting than the HP world, to write. There'll be another chapter on Monday or Tuesday. All in all, this story will be no less than ten chapters; probably closer to fifteen by the time we're through. We've still got a long way to go, and my advice? Never assume ;). I'm hoping to get a good deal of it done over the Christmas holidays. Hope you're still enjoying it, and you'll continue to read. Reviews are music to the poor author's soul, whether good or bad. I always love to hear comments and suggestions. Thanks for traveling this far with me, and I hope to enjoy your company on the rest of the ride!_


	4. Chapter 4: Of Bewilderment and Flying Ca...

Chapter 4: Of Bewilderment and Flying Cauldrons  
  
Snape sat at his desk, head bent low over the pile of second-year exams he was grading. He did not look up for several moments. Hermione perched on the edge of her chair, unsure of procedure in circumstances such as these. Should she speak first? Apologize? Or would that incriminate her even further? Indecision, as it turned out, made the choice for her, as she was still struggling with the question when he spoke.  
  
"Miss Granger. I presume your school year is proceeding tolerably?" She was thrown, admittedly. Snape did not beat around the bush; if this was some new way of toying with his students, she wasn't aware he'd adopted it. Realizing he expected an answer, she inclined her head.  
  
"Professor. Yes, the term has been fine." The feathers stashed in her sleeve shifted with her every movement, tickling the crook of her elbow. She bit her lip in an effort not to smile; then he'd know something was up for sure. Couldn't he just get to the point already?  
  
"I need to see a copy of your schedule." All right, now she was **really** confused. What on earth could her schedule have to do with the fact that she had been caught stealing - oh God, _stealing_ - supplies for illicit potion-brewing from a teacher's classroom? Snape cleared his throat and leaned forward over the desk - a move she (probably correctly) suspected had been perfected over the years he'd spent finetuning the art of intimidation. "Miss Granger, you may have all day free to fritter away in the dungeons, but I can assure you I do not. Your schedule, please." He held out a hand. Stirred from her thoughts, she hastily rifled through the front pocket of her schoolbag and found the folded piece of parchment.  
  
He unfolded and read; she clasped her hands not a little nervously in her lap, unsure of what this was all about. Snape made a small noise of something that might have been surprise. Or contempt. He shot her a look over top of the document. "Double charms period."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"You're not planning on applying to an Auror training institution, then?" Ah. So that's what this whole little charade was. Get her to admit she didn't have what it takes to be an Auror, and humiliate her thoroughly by crushing the mudblood's one pathetic little attempt to prove she was really a Gryffindor at heart and not simply a pretender to the title. She had to give him credit; until that moment she would not have believed that even he could be so cruel. At least she still had a shot at keeping her dignity, she thought; he didn't need any more ammunition than he already had, and she certainly wasn't going to give it to him.  
  
Hermione lifted her chin. "No, sir."  
  
He dropped his eyes back to the parchment. "Good."  
  
Well. THAT was certainly not what she'd expected.  
  
"What? Um, I mean... sir?" Hermione, stunned out of her facade of bravado, stared at his implacable visage.  
  
"Have you suddenly developed a hearing disorder, Miss Granger?"  
  
"No... I just... What Professor Dumbledore said at the welcoming feast. That we all would be expected to fight for ourselves and each other. I thought..."  
  
"Dumbledore was quite right. He usually is. Rather infuriating, actually. I believe, Miss Granger, you are forgetting a key statement. If you will recall, he said that each of you would be expected to use your _individual abilities_ to their utmost potential. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley's particular... gifts... may indeed be best suited to getting themselves killed in the midst of a battle with Voldemort's minions." Hermione bit off a protest at this insult, curious to see how he would continue. "But I would venture to say that it would be a crime for you to waste your talents which, as much as it may pain me to admit it, are clearly evident in that manner."  
  
Of all the possible outcomes to this situation - detention, suspension, expulsion - that had been running through her head since the end of the period, this was not one that had even crossed her mind. For one of the first and only times in her life, Hermione Granger was rendered speechless. She eventually was able to say the only words that one could in response to that statement from that particular man. "Thank you, Professor."  
  
He refolded the parchment. "It was not a compliment. It was simply the truth."  
  
She hesitated. "Professor, if I may ask... what is this about?" She was fairly certain that if this had in fact been about the filched feathers, she would've been on her way to Dumbledore's office long ago.  
  
"Tell me, Miss Granger, what you know of magical theory." He folded his hands and leaned back in his chair slightly, as he often did after asking a particularly tricky question in class. She began to feel that this was a pop-quiz for which she wasn't completely prepared.  
  
"Um, well, there are several basic principles that magic is believed to be based on... First of all, that the results of a spell depend upon the wizard's individual ability and intent. Both must be present for the magic to work, and the intensity of each affects the eventual effectiveness of the spell cast. Secondly, there are some basic physical limitations. The object of a spell generally has to be within the caster's line of sight. Also, the focus of power is important. Most wizards use wands as a tool for that purpose, but the truly powerful, like the Headmaster, are able to do wandless magic." She might have continued, but Snape raised a hand.  
  
"Good enough. Rather rudimentary, but basically correct. Now, Miss Granger, please fetch one of the cauldrons used in today's lesson." She rose. "Without leaving your chair." He indicated the open door of the storeroom.  
  
A bit puzzled, she sat down again, and raised her wand in the direction of the door. "Accio cauldron." In a matter of seconds, the requested item was levitating towards them. It settled gently on the desk - a refinement of the spell that she'd managed to master during fifth year.  
  
Professor Snape nodded. "Would you be so kind, then, as to explain how that simple charm just violated the principles of magic you laid out not five minutes ago?" She blanched slightly at this. But... after all, he did say that her initial assessment had been true, didn't he?  
  
"Well, I suppose... I suppose the line of sight rule must not apply to all spells. That's the only way to explain it." She shrugged.  
  
"Then how, exactly, did that particular one work? If it was simply a matter of bringing anything in the direction you pointed that is defined by the word "cauldron" to this desk, I believe that we would now be sitting under approximately one ton of pewter." His brow was slightly furrowed, but not in the usual unpleasant manner. There had been only a couple of occasions over the years in which she'd seen him look like this - genuinely _interested_.  
  
"I'm not sure, Professor. I think it's because I knew specifically which cauldron I was trying to summon - the one I'd set next to the utility sink to dry. I could see it in my mind."  
  
"In other words, you are saying that your mental focus allowed you to cast the spell, even though the object of that focus was not in your sight?" She nodded. "All right, Miss Granger. That is acceptable for our purposes."  
  
"Professor... I'm still rather confused. I'm just not sure what this has to do with... well, anything." The feathers were now benign and forgotten in her sleeve; it was clear that, whether he knew about them or not, that was not what this meeting concerned.  
  
"You are aware, are you not, that the top wizarding universities require an independent study project to be completed as part of your application."  
  
"Yes, I'd planned on speaking to Professor McGonagall about it later in the term. I was given to understand that these projects were conducted in the spring semester." Hermione was confused. Surely he wouldn't be actively seeking her out for work on a project? Not Snape.  
  
"Usually, yes, they are begun somewhat later, but Dumbledore asked me to speak with you today. If you are interested, this particular project would be somewhat different than what one normally does to fulfill that requirement." Ah, that was it, then. Dumbledore was the reason he was here, talking to her like a relatively normal human being. Should've known. Still, she was intrigued. And any sort of project that would set her apart from the other applicants to university would be a great asset.  
  
"What would this project entail, Professor?" It surprised her a bit that she was genuinely curious.  
  
"Put simply, the goal would be to adapt an existing potion or, if necessary, create a new one that would enable the user to focus their intent and magic to the point that it would become no longer necessary to have a line of sight connection to the subject of the spell, or even be in its general vicinity. It is, of course, much more complicated than that, as I am sure you are aware. And there would be many side issues to deal with, which I am not going to bring up at this time. I would suggest, Miss Granger, that you now return to your room and think about it. This would not be a light commitment on your part. It will require long hours, hard work, discretion, and a large measure of devotion to a craft that is plainly not your first choice. After the next Potions class, we will meet again, and you will inform me of your decision. You may go." He picked up his quill again, seemingly as if the conversation had never taken place. Hermione got up from her chair and gathered her things, still a bit stunned. She had, for the second time that day, reached the door when -  
  
"Miss Granger." She turned. "It would perhaps be prudent to not mention the details of this project to your classmates. You will understand at a later date." She bowed her head in assent.   
  
"Understood, Professor." And, with a strange mix of relief and confusion echoing in her head, she left.  
  
***  
  
Harry and Ron were overjoyed when they found out that their plan had not been uncovered. So overjoyed, in fact, that they were hardly interested in what Snape had actually detained Hermione for. Just as well. She didn't fancy trying to explain to them why she couldn't tell them, especially when, in fact, she herself didn't really know. As for the decision itself, she decided to put it off until she'd had time to sleep on it. Their meeting had contained too much information, too quickly; her brain needed time to sort it out.  
  
There was one element of the conversation, however, that vaguely nagged at her all day. It was only late at night, in the darkly velvet moment between consciousness and sleep, that she realized. Severus Snape had, in one short dialogue, shown more understanding of her nature than Harry and Ron - ostensibly her best friends - had ever since she'd told them she wasn't going to be an Auror. Perhaps longer than that, even. That thought, at best, was entirely disconcerting, and at worst? Hermione did not want to contemplate it. With a sigh, she slipped into the welcoming warmth of sleep.  
  
--  
  
_A/N: Some interaction at last! No sparks (yet...) but something's telling me this could be the start of a beautiful friendship. And, don't forget - we still have to figure out what exactly Draco is up to! Intrigue abounds. This chapter is up a bit early - it just wouldn't let me concentrate on studying. I can't promise when the next will be... maybe Tuesday or Wednesday, but I'm traveling quite a bit this week, so we'll see. I promise it'll be up as soon as humanly possible! My sincere thanks to everyone who's reviewed. You guys are the best. :) Again, if you liked it, hated it, even *read* it, please let me know! I love hearing from you, and comments make my day. Thanks again, and see you soon!_


	5. Chapter 5: Of Potions and More Surprises

Chapter 5: Of Potions and More Surprises  
  
--  
  
Once the initial danger of 'borrowing' the jobberknoll feathers had passed, the brewing of the potion was no problem at all. Harry and Ron kept Hermione company in her room while she worked - the procedure wasn't difficult, but it did require semi-constant attention for a few hours each day. The boys would go over quidditch plays while she stirred, measured, or added ingredients; when they decided that it was time for a break, they'd simply grab her around the middle and use her as a substitute quaffle. Invariably, these spontaneous sport sessions would quickly degenerate into a sprawling, giggling puppy pile on the floor. For the first time all year, Hermione didn't feel as if there was an unresolved issue hanging in the air between them. This potion, and the motivation behind it, gave the trio a common purpose; it was easier to concentrate on that than to confront the issues that were likely to only create friction.  
  
That's why Hermione felt a twinge of sadness as she corked the small vial of finished potion on Sunday evening. The preparations were finished; they would only need to wait until Malfoy received his next owl to put their plan into action. And then... well, who knew? It was possible - however unlikely it seemed - that this would all turn out to be nothing, the letters harmless. In that case, things would return to the way they'd been all term; overly polite and aggressively sincere conversations that never once touched on post-graduation plans, and those (thankfully infrequent) moments when Hermione had the distinct and unpleasant feeling she'd interrupted a conversation about herself. _Ah well_, she thought, scrubbing the last traces of precipitate out of the cauldron in her bathroom sink. _No use worrying about that until you have to._  
  
Unfortunately, she found that time came sooner than she might've hoped. The next morning, bright and early, the now-familiar owl soared into the hall and dropped yet another envelope in front of Draco. Ron dug his elbows into both Harry and Hermione's sides; rather unnecessarily, as a matter of fact, as they were all three paying very close attention. When Malfoy had secreted the letter away in his robes and picked up his fork again, they turned to each other, faces laced with anticipation and apprehension. Harry's lips soundlessly formed one word: _Tonight._  
  
***  
  
Classes seemed to stretch on forever that day. Hermione thought it was rather like the day just before Christmas break, except for the knot of anxiety slowly twisting in her stomach. She seriously doubted that Harry and Ron got this nervous before any of their various escapades; perhaps if they did, she thought, they'd be less eager to jump right in. Well, at the moment, she was nervous enough for all three of them. They'd been doing this for long enough that it was high time for something unexpected to happen; she only prayed that they would be prepared when it did.  
  
After dinner that evening, they decided that an empty classroom would be much more suited to preparations than the common room, mostly because, once invisible, they wouldn't have to wait for someone to open the door before they could leave. Harry shook out the invisibility cloak, newly enlarged, while Ron activated the Marauder's Map with a certain amount of odd reverence. Hermione, for the tenth time that day, checked the vial of memory potion in a pocket of her robe.  
  
"Remember, if Malfoy spots us, just smash the bottle on the floor at his feet. The aerosolized spray will ensure that he doesn't remember us being there at all. Just be sure to not breathe it in." Harry and Ron nodded. When everything was in place, Harry swept the cloak around the trio, and thin air swallowed them whole.  
  
***  
  
Finding their way to the Slytherin common room wasn't hard. They'd become quite adept at walking in step with each other, and a couple of years ago they'd discovered a charm to muffle the sound of their footfalls under the cloak, so that was no danger. It was simply a matter of finding an out of the way nook where no one would be likely to accidentally bump into them.  
  
Once settled, they turned their attention to the map. The dot that said "Draco Malfoy" was currently settled in the boys' section of the Slytherin dormitories. Harry met Ron's eyes and sighed. It was shaping up to be a long evening.  
  
About two hours later, Hermione nudged her companions and indicated the map. Draco's dot was steadily moving towards the common room door. The three of them silently prepared to follow. A minute or two later, the stone wall opened, and three figures stepped out... Avery, Crabbe, and Goyle. No Malfoy in sight. Yet the map still indicated that he had exited the common room, and was now standing not ten feet away from them. There was not time to think before the three Slytherins turned right down the dungeon hallway, while according to the map, Draco went left. Suddenly Hermione was struck with realization. She grabbed Harry and Ron's wrists and shook the silvery material covering the, mouthing "Cloak!" as understanding dawned on their faces. Of course Malfoy would have an invisibility cloak of his own; it wouldn't be like his parents to deny their son such a potentially useful gadget. Harry led the way, and they set off down the hallway, following at a safe distance.  
  
Draco seemed to be taking no chances on being followed; he made a nearly complete, although winding and roundabout, circuit of the castle before finally slowing in the third floor corridor. The third floor was no longer forbidden, considering the Sorcerer's Stone was long gone, but students still tended to stay away, fearing that perhaps Hagrid had not found a better place to stash Fluffy after that year. Harry paused as Draco lowered the hood of his cloak, looked carefully around, and then removed it completely, draping the liquid-like cloth over his arm. He proceeded to open a heavy door on the perimeter of the hallway - Harry, Ron, and Hermione managed to just slip in before he shut it again.   
  
The room was dark, lit only by the pale fall moonlight drifting through the window to settle on the carved stone surfaces of the walls and fixtures. A dark figure stood, apparently lost in thought and looking out the window. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. So Harry and Ron hadn't been wrong after all - this was who Draco had been meeting, this mysterious wizard masked in black robes and moonglow and shadow. She shot a look in Malfoy's direction, unwilling to take her eyes off the other wizard for more than a few seconds. Draco, for his part, was clearly nervous, kneading the silky fabric of his cloak in his hands. He took a step forward and cleared his throat.  
  
The figure at the window startled out of its reverie and wheeled, visibly relaxing when Draco came into its line of sight. "Draco," an unmistakably feminine and strangely familiar voice said, as the shrouded figure raised her hands to lower her hood. "You surprised me, you're early..."  
  
Hermione shook her head to clear it. She was **not** hearing this. Wasn't seeing it, either.   
  
The witch had shrugged off the fabric covering her head to reveal a shock of bright red hair, and Ginny Weasley stepped forward out of the shadow - and straight into Draco Malfoy's waiting arms. His voice was thick as he buried his face in her hair, nuzzling just below her ear. "I couldn't wait." She giggled and threaded her fingers through the slight blonde curls at the nape of his neck.  
  
Hermione warily turned to look at Ron and Harry, wanting to believe that what she was seeing was some sort of glamour, that they had witnessed something completely different. Seeing the looks on their faces, though, she knew that wasn't the case. Harry's expression, she was pretty sure, mirrored her own: disbelief, worry, and somewhere, a tiny bit of relief that Draco hadn't been sneaking off to meet the newest incarnation of Voldemort. Ron, however... Ron was standing stock still, mouth slightly open, eyes as big as saucers, as if a basilisk had managed to slither past without their notice. Hermione wondered briefly if he'd gone into shock, until she noticed the two bright red spots of anger quickly rising in his cheeks. She'd seen that look before... on Mrs. Weasley, right before she loudly started in on whichever of her sons was making her life difficult that particular day. Hermione realized it was only a matter of seconds before Ron would blow their cover. _Sorry, Ron..._ She leveled her wand at his and whispered "Petrificus Totalis".  
  
Harry realized what she was doing and was ready to grab Ron as he stiffened and fell backwards. Working in tandem, they managed to haul him back towards the door and get out; Hermione suspected that they weren't being very stealthy, but Draco and Ginny were lost to the world. They wouldn't have noticed had a herd of hippogriffs had stampeded through. Once they were outside, a well-applied mobilicorpus got Ron floating down the hall, and Harry and Hermione made it back to the dormitories as quickly as humanly possible.  
  
***  
  
Harry shut the door to Hermione's room firmly and propped Ron's unconscious form against the bed. Hermione slightly winced as she raised her wand. "... Finite Incantatum."  
  
Ron didn't miss a beat. "MALFOY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SISTER, YOU SLIMY, EVIL, SON OF A BLAST-ENDED SKRE..." He paused as he realized that Hermione's room was not, in fact, an abandoned classroom on the third floor. "Killed 'im for me then, have you? Thanks guys, knew I could always count on you..."  
  
Harry and Hermione gave each other a slow look. Perhaps they should have discussed how to deal with this situation before unfreezing Ron. Finally, Harry took a deep breath and clapped him on the shoulder. "Ron, maybe we should all just sit down and talk about how to handle this before anyone does anything... hasty..."  
  
Ron sat up indignantly. "What's there to talk about? I'm just going to curse every single part of his body that he ever let within a foot of Ginny, that's all." Harry winced slightly.  
  
Hermione had had enough. "Ronald Weasley, you will do nothing of the sort. I cannot believe the two of you," she stormed, eyebrows narrowed. "Ginny did not look anything like an unwilling participant in... whatever that was, and I will **not** allow the two of you to go rampaging up there and 'save' her from whatever you think she needs saving from. I'll admit I don't understand what she sees in him, but we have no reason to distrust her judgement in _her own life_. And you have to admit, Draco's been much less of a prat to us this year than usual. If you think for one second that I'm letting you out of here so you can tell yet another girl what, in your infinite wisdom, she should be doing with her life, you have another think coming. Are we clear?" She paused, noticing for the first time that her hands were balled into fists, fingernails almost painfully dug into her palms.  
  
Harry and Ron sat on the bed in front of her, clearly stunned at the outburst. Ron started, "Hermione, I cannot **believe** that you are defending that -" He stopped when Harry elbowed him in the ribs and shook his head fiercely. Now was most definitely not the time.  
  
Hermione sighed. "Harry, just take him back to your dorm, will you? And make sure he doesn't do anything stupid..." Silently, Harry helped Ron, who was clearly still very much processing these recent events, to his feet. On the way out the door, he paused.  
  
"You've really changed, Hermione... I... well, I'll see you tomorrow." And they were gone.  
  
Hermione's righteous furor lasted all of five minutes before she wilted into her windowseat, leaning her forehead against the glass, watching the rain and her tears streak down the pain. _No, Harry,_ she thought. _It's not that I've changed. It's just, for some reason, I'm not afraid anymore to show you who I am. _And that, she was afraid, was the loneliest thing of all.  
  
--  
  
_A/N: Sorry this is so late, guys! Like I posted in a comment a couple of days ago, this past week has been incredibly busy for me. Finals, traveling home, spending time with my family, doing **all** my Christmas shopping... not to mention Lord of the Rings! But here's your new chapter. Hope you liked it! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and I'd absolutely love it if you'd continue to. Expect a new chapter in a few days. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all!_


	6. Chapter 6: Of Common Rooms and Classroom...

Chapter 6: Of Common Rooms and Classrooms  
  
***  
  
There would be no screaming fights in the hallway, no icicles forming on the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Those theatrics were more suitable for Lavender and Parvati's occasional apocalyptic row. No, outside observers would have a hard time discerning that anything had ever changed. Perhaps the trio did not linger as long in the common room after dinner before going their separate ways; perhaps there was less covert note-passing and whispering in their common classes. But overall, it was behavior not inconsistent with three seventh years, preparing for their NEWTs and the inevitable disruption of their entire lives.  
  
Hermione rather thought her life had already changed. Even if no one else could see it - she recognized the way Harry and Ron's shoulders curved away from her now when they sat, the way their conversation's tone changed when she entered the room. She sometimes wondered as she cried into her pillow at night if she wasn't being a bit melodramatic. The boys hadn't stopped talking to her, after all; hadn't stopped sitting with her at meals or doing their homework together. But all the same, she knew. Things were different.  
  
At least Ron had avoided getting himself expelled - so far. Harry told Hermione that the two of them had stayed up all night after discovering Draco and Ginny, Ron sporadically trying to get out of the tower to remove Draco's head, and Harry trying to keep him there. She praised Merlin that at least Harry had the sense to realize that the quickest way to ensure Ginny kept seeing Draco was to tell her that she couldn't. Still, she didn't know how much longer Harry could keep Ron back - or would be willing to. She didn't dare try convincing him herself. As much as she felt she was doing the right thing, she couldn't bear to give up any more of either of them than she already had.  
  
Neither did she, or they for that matter, breathe a word to anyone else. There was no telling what Draco would do if word got out (though privately, Hermione thought it was actually Ginny the boys were afraid of; a Malfoy's wrath was nothing compared to a female Weasley's.) But late one evening, she found herself alone in the common room with Ginny, the younger girl absorbed in a Muggle novel she'd gotten from who knows where. Hermione could not let the opportunity pass her by.  
  
"Ginny." She spoke softly, sitting very straight in a scarlet armchair, hands clasped between her knees. Ginny startled and looked up, a friendly smile spreading over her face when she saw Hermione.  
  
"Hey, 'Mione." Yawning, she checked her watch. "Oh, man, I've been reading for longer than I thought..." She trailed off as she noticed Hermione's odd expression. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"No, I just... Ginny. Be careful, okay?" Ginny's eyebrows narrowed briefly in suspicion before once again assuming a curious, innocent expression as Hermione continued. "You're not stupid, I know that. You know what you're doing. But just... be careful. Not for Ron or Harry or anyone else. For you." Hermione couldn't contain herself any longer, and clasped Ginny in a brief but fervent hug. "If you ever need anyone to talk to... well, I'm always here." Then she fled to her rooms, leaving a thoroughly confused redhead behind her.  
  
***  
  
The days continued to pass; each hour seemed to Hermione to drag on at near glacial speed, though when she took a minute to think, classes and days seemed to blur together into an impenetrable mass. She was surprised, then, at the end of the next Potions session when she remembered her impending meeting with Snape. At least it would give her something to concentrate on other than the state of her social life, if nothing else, she thought. Harry and Ron were waiting for her out of habit as the other students hastily closed their books and left. Hermione told them to go, she'd see them later, and with barely a nod they went. She tried not to be hurt.  
  
Thankfully, she did not have much time to dwell, as the last student out the door closed it and Snape set down his quill. She took a seat, and for the first time truly appreciated the import of her situation - she was being asked to collaborate on a project with a potions master, one of the most highly qualified men of his craft in all of Britain. Suddenly and inexplicably, she found herself quite excited about the prospect.  
  
"Have you reached a decision yet, Miss Granger?" Snape's dark eyes studied her as she thought quickly. Perhaps she hadn't given this the consideration it deserved over the past week, but now, she could not bring herself to refuse the opportunity.  
  
"I - I think so, Professor, but I have some questions..." It might have been her imagination, but she thought that a ghost of a smile had passed over his face before he could stop it.  
  
"Undoubtedly. In fact, had you none, I would have shown you the door immediately and encouraged Dumbledore to rethink this entire notion. Nevertheless, I must ask for your answer before I can give you any of my own." If Hermione had learned one thing at Hogwarts, it was this: there is no negotiating with Professor Snape, so don't even try.  
  
"Then my answer is yes." Snape looked almost relieved, and immediately set an official-looking parchment before her with a quill.  
  
"This is a standard contract of secrecy. Once signed, it enacts a binding magical agreement that renders you unable to speak of the details of this project to anyone, until the contract holders - in this case, Dumbledore and myself - allow it. It is necessary for reasons you will be made aware of presently. You are of age to enter into such a contract, I presume?" Hermione nodded and set the quill to the paper, signing her name in a graceful, looping script. Dumbledore, she saw, had already signed in emerald ink. Snape then took it and signed his own, aggressively slashing the letters across the page. That done, he rolled it, sealed it, and stored it in one of the desk drawers. Finally, steepling his long, pale fingers just below his chin, he said, "You may now ask any questions you have. I will answer, assuming it is necessary for you to know."  
  
Hermione took a deep breath. "I suppose, first of all, I'd like to know why this is all necessary - the contract, the fact that you couldn't tell me anything about the project until now. It seems rather out of the ordinary for an honors project."  
  
Snape fixed her with a hard look. "We are fighting a war, Miss Granger. Consider yourself drafted." Hermione did not know what to say to this; fortunately, he continued. "I assume you remember the project as I discussed it with you last time."  
  
She nodded. "Developing a potion to enhance power and focus in order to extend the range of spells and allow a wizard to perform magic on an object not in their immediate vicinity."  
  
"You should be able to conceive of the advantages such a potion would have in a time of war." Hermione considered for a moment.  
  
"You're saying that a very powerful wizard would be able to use it to charm or curse their enemies from a safe location... A powerful wizard like Dumbledore."  
  
"Or Voldemort." Snape's face was deadly serious as he spoke. "It is imperative that you understand - if Voldemort learns about this potion, it will place both of us in very great danger. Secrecy is of the highest priority. This contract helps to assure that, but you will have to be constantly on guard."  
  
Hermione's eyes were large as she asked the next question. "Why do this at Hogwarts, then? There are more qualified research and development labs all over Britain."  
  
"Dumbledore does not trust anyone outside Hogwarts at this moment. We have known since the end of your fourth year that Fudge cannot be relied upon; just recently we learned that Voldemort's corruption has penetrated the very upper stratus of the ministry. Outside of these walls, you cannot count on anyone being on our side. It is a sad, frightening fact, but it is the truth." Snape's lips were thin; he seemed to almost be gauging her response.  
  
Hermione swallowed. "Okay, then why me?"  
  
"As a student, Miss Granger, you are not aware of it, but the faculty at this school are all involved in the war effort to the point that teaching is nearly a secondary occupation. There quite simply is no one else. You are singularly qualified among the students to assist me with this project, and therefore it has been presented to you. I have thought for many months that Dumbledore has done you all a disservice by sheltering you thus far; now you must understand what will be expected of you upon graduation, and be ready to deal with it. You, Miss Granger, are simply being called upon six months early."  
  
Biting her lip, Hermione internally debated her next question, but she had to ask. "This is not going to come out at all the way I mean it, but... why you?" Snape arched a coal black eyebrow. "I just figured that you'd rather turn yourself in to Voldemort voluntarily than work with a Gryffindor on anything."  
  
Snape sighed. "My role in this is such, Miss Granger, that I need to be very careful about who I publically appear to favor."  
  
"You're a spy." Her voice was quiet but by no means unsure. Apparently taken by surprise, Snape blinked, but showed no outward signs of distress.  
  
"Yes. I am a spy. And if I was thought to show favor to any house except Slytherin, even once, it would place me on very dangerous ground." Hermione was silent. "If it eases your mind, I can assure you that in our collaboration, I will not show you the contempt and condescension that I would ordinarily be required to. I cannot promise to be pleasant, but I can be civil."  
  
Hermione wasn't aware she'd been holding her breath, but now she inhaled and managed the tiniest smile. "I would appreciate that very much, Professor." Her mind was reeling, to say the least. He had just given her a great deal of information that she suspected would take a long time to process. "I'm sorry, this is just a bit overwhelming..."  
  
Snape looked sympathetic - or as close to it as he could manage. "We are nearly finished. You must understand, Miss Granger, what this potion could mean to the wizarding world as a whole. It is imperative that you devote to this the time and attention it deserves. Remember that if Dumbledore and I did not feel you capable of it, we would not be having this conversation right now. Understood?" Hermione nodded weakly. "We will meet again on Saturday, at which time I expect you to have researched a potion you believe would be a useful base, and be ready to begin brewing." He picked up his quill in dismissal.  
  
Hermione picked up her bag, and was halfway to the door when she stopped. "Have a good day, Professor."  
  
Snape looked up in surprise. Most people stormed, slinked, or just plain ran out of his dungeons. Few stopped to wish him well. "Goodbye."  
  
***  
  
The rest of that day passed in something of a blur, but instead of a haze of misery, Hermione at last felt in her element - in the midst of an intellectual challenge. She went directly to the library from the potions classroom, and stayed until Madame Pince had to bodily show her the door, and even then worked in her room until the candlelight stung her eyes and her shoulders ached with exhaustion. She hadn't been so tired in weeks.  
  
But when she finally slumbered that night, her pillow was dry and her sleep was untroubled.  
  
--  
  
_A/N: This chapter just did not want to be written! I wish I could say my muse had deserted me, but it's not true - she just insisted on inspiring a chapter I won't be able to write for weeks! So rest assured that there's a chapter coming up that will be very good - apparently, the problem is going to be getting there. I've been working on some other projects as well; I've posted a few drabbles on this account, and I've also been writing a challenge response for WIKTT that will go up once it's completed. Additionally, I was just struck with an idea for a short, one-shot fic that I might have to get out soon. So, there'll be more on the horizon, and I haven't forgotten this! If you'd like to get email notification when I post a new chapter, email me a valid address at sweetmisery324@yahoo.com, and I'll put you on the list. Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed and emailed - it means a lot to me! Please continue to do so.  
  
You can stop reading here, but I'd like to take just a few moments to comment on the fic so far. A recent reviewer has got me thinking, and I'd like to just say a couple words about how I view it.  
  
First of all, I would like everyone to understand that I'm not trying to do something radically different or groundbreaking with this fic; it's just an idea that came to me and refused to leave for several weeks, so I had to write it. This is my first work in the Harry Potter fandom, so I'm rather skittish about canon. I'm just trying to tell a simple love story, although I hope to avoid cliche as I do so. And yes, this is a love story, although I realize it doesn't seem so yet. I believe that for something as potentially controversial as a student-teacher relationship, it needs to develop over time; as much as I love PWP, I just can't see Severus and Hermione jumping into bed together as their relationship stands now. I don't mean to deride any other stories by saying that - for instance, Roman Holiday remains one of my favorite H/S stories of all time - but it won't be happening in this story. Our lovebirds have many miles before they sleep.  
  
I don't see Harry and Ron as the bad guys in this at all. This story, while third person, is told very much from Hermione's perspective. That means we don't see H and R getting teary themselves over the fact that their best friend is growing away from them. I have a strong feeling they're just as much torn up over this as Hermione; they just have a very different way of showing it. And Hermione does seem the type to throw herself into her studies in order to distract herself from other problems, doesn't she?  
  
One of the things commented on was that, thus far, Severus seems to be somewhat two dimensional, and I have to agree with that. The Snape of canon is, in fact, pretty one-sided; one of the things I have loved about the H/S fandom is learning to see past that, and hopefully, that's what Hermione will be doing too as time passes. Until now she's only had to see him as the cruel potions master who hates her house and seems to be plotting against Harry at every turn (although, plainly, he isn't; personally I think Harry and Ron can be a bit unfair in presuming him to be behind every attempt on Harry's life.) Now she's found out that much of what she disliked about him is an act - not to say that he's going to turn into a fuzzy bunny in private, because he is most emphatically NOT - and she'll have to learn to get to know him as a person, something that few people around Snape have taken the time to do. And lucky us, we get to watch. :)  
  
Well, enough of my selfindulgent ramblings. If anyone wants to discuss it further - and I'm always up for it! - please feel absolutely free to email me or leave your remarks as comments. I love, love, love hearing from you. That's all for today - have a wonderful day!_


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